


At your side

by wildcursive



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Are they attempts if he doesn't get to the attempt itself mostly?, But there's so much angst, It's hard to explain without spoiling the whole thing, M/M, Nothing really explicit or accomplished here, Post-Game, Suicidal Ideation, Yes I still haven't learned how to write unhappy endings, but if suicidal themes bother you, discussion of suicide attempts, guardian angel!noct, happy-ish?, it's better not to read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 02:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13603671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcursive/pseuds/wildcursive
Summary: Ignis' birthdays after the coming of the Dawn go by mostly unnoticed. So does the fact that despite his deteriorating skills he never seems to get hurt. On his 36th birthday he takes matters into his own hands.Written for Ignoct week 2018 Day 1: Situational prompt





	At your side

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please, make sure you've checked the tags before reading! Anyways, here I am starting off Ignoct week 1. late 2. with so much angst 3. written for Ignis' birthday. Iggy, sweetie, I'm sorry, I swear I love you and the rest of my entries won't be this angsty. This is not betaed, though @daxicus looked over a part of it for me, which I am thankful for, so any and all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy! Recommended listening for this and Ignoct in the bad AU aka canon in general: Rag'n'bone Man - Skin.

Ignis’ first birthday after the return of the Dawn goes unnoticed. Noctis' passing is still too fresh of a wound for everyone amid attempts to rebuild, which prove much more trying than expected. Bringing Insomnia back to its former glory would be easy compared to living through a decade of daemon-infested darkness, the survivors had thought. But it is slow-going and unsatisfying, people expected too much too fast and now their disappointment makes the work that much harder. It seems the passing of their King has affected everyone as much as it did those closest to him.

Gladio deals with his grief the same way he did a decade ago - he buries everything deep down and throws himself into the rebuilding efforts. They live together for now, the three of them, having been given some of the best available accommodations for their service and contributions. But Gladio leaves early at dawn and comes back late at night and Ignis knows he will be the first one to leave. Prompto tries. Tries to get Gladio to stick around, to get Ignis to go out when it's not related to work, to lighten the mood around the house and be the glue that holds them together. But Ignis knows that was never Prompto's role, it was Noct that held them together like they never will be again.

Ignis himself does nothing. He continues functioning, participates in the strategic meetings he is asked to lend his voice to, cooks mostly for himself and Prompto, and stays home when he is not needed elsewhere. Prompto takes up his photography again, goes out on hunts, trains. Ignis lets his combat skills deteriorate. He has not acquired new weapons - his trusted daggers and polearm were lost with the Armiger and maybe they still exist somewhere in the beyond, close to Noctis, as if a small part of Ignis himself is with him. He cannot replace them with that possibility in mind and he does not need to, he has no one to fight for anyway. But it is not only his combat skills he has let go. As if a fog has fallen over his mind, Ignis lets his senses wither. He cooks less, makes the meals simpler as his hands grow clumsy with the knife. It bumps against his fingers and clatters against the countertop when he drops it time after time. (Ignis doesn't notice that he never cuts himself on it.) He picks up his old cane when he starts stumbling even over the furniture at home. The streets go back to being as dangerous as the journey into Cartanica ten years prior, but Ignis doesn't get a respite this time, there is no second Malboro-slaying moment of clarity.  Yet he never falls. He stumbles and trips, swaying, but never losing his balance completely. It is almost imperceptible, but it is as if there's always a hand on his elbow guiding him and a pair of arms around his waist to right him up when he stumbles. Ignis trudges on, growing number by the day.

* * *

By Ignis' second birthday after the Dawn Gladio has already left. He is married now, Ignis attended the ceremony out of courtesy and offered his congratulations, but did not stay for the reception. He heard the vague tap of footsteps following him into the night on his way home and wondered if they meant danger, if he would end up a lone corpse in an alley after managing to fight off packs upon packs of Imperial troops all on his own once upon a time. He could no longer hear the footsteps by the time the memory of Altissia passed.

His birthday he spends mostly on his own. Prompto - the one who actually remembers it - gives him a rushed hug and sticks a box in his arms before heading out on another hunt. Ignis leaves the box unopened at the coffee table and contemplates that he is now 34. He was 32 yesterday.

* * *

By the next one, he is alone. Technically Prompto still lives with him, but he has gone over to Hammerhead for a month, on what business Ignis is not sure, as he did not bother listening. He has heard just enough to know that soon Prompto will be gone too. He learned the date this time from Gladio calling to offer well wishes. His friends have both moved on. Ignis has nothing to move on towards.

This is the first time he considers it. He has stayed alive out of habit almost, going through the motions and convincing himself that he is fulfilling a duty to Noctis to rebuild in his stead just like everyone else. But Ignis' duty was always only Noctis himself. He should have followed him into the beyond and maybe it is still not too late for that.

Ignis prides himself on his abilities as a strategist, but they seem to have deteriorated as everything else, for the three times he plans and prepares to take his own life are all foiled in the silliest of ways. It is either Prompto returning home from what was supposed to be a week-long trip on the day after he left because he forgot a silly trinket he simply could not go without or a council envoy with and urgent message and orders to bring Ignis to a meeting at all cost, or Gladio, who has not been to this house for years, coming for a surprise visit.

* * *

On his 36th birthday Ignis is prepared. Prompto must be back at the house, looking for him by now, but neither he nor Gladio, nor any envoy can stop him this time. The smell of the sea brings back memories of their first visit to the Quay more than a decade ago now, as Ignis pays the owner and clumsily gets on board of the small boat. He has forgone the cane hoping the harsh weather and his hood will let him remain inconspicuous, because would anyone in their right mind let a blind man borrow a boat in the harsh February conditions? He sets his backpack down. It is big and looks better filled than it actually is. Where he is going he will not need supplies. Get to Angelgard and join Noct in the beyond there or die on the way, that is his plan after all.

A little groping around and he finds the oars, settling more comfortably and taking off. When he is -probably - sufficiently far away from the shore, Ignis takes out a compass from his pocket and tugs a glove off to feel the movement of its needle. The freezing wind nips at his fingers, but he can discern that he's going in the right direction. Next stop - Angelgard. If he gets there at all. The winds become harsher and harsher the further in he goes and so does the sea. Before long Ignis is drenched and freezing and it seems it will be the latter rather than the former option when it comes to his plan.

* * *

In fourteen years he has learned how to distinguish between the darkness of his lost sight and that of his unconscious mind, but now it seems his memory has started failing him as well, because the feel of rough rock underneath his palms and knees means he has arrived at his destination, yet he has no idea how. It takes him a while to get to his feet, because every part of his body feels numb, but when he eventually does, Ignis feels a strong pull forward. He has not looked up any information on the island, he doesn’t know where on it he is, or what the terrain in front of him looks like besides the two imposing peaks he remembers seeing from the Galdin shore. And yet, he feels the pull of his destination with his whole being, as he painstakingly trudges on. His steps are slow, his body screaming for sustenance, but he did not even bother searching for his backpack and the meager supplies inside before setting out.

An indefinite amount of time later the rough terrain turns into steps and his exhausted body makes him stop for rest after every single one. The uneven staircase trips him and Ignis misses his cane as the urge to crawl on all fours becomes almost unbearable. Yet again he doesn’t fall. Just like the past four years it’s as if there is something holding him up, keeping him on his path.

His breaths are coming out loud and ragged by the time Ignis reaches the top. The sudden even ground startles him into tripping and he frantically grips around for support, his hand resting against something solid and cold - a wall more uneven than the rocks he woke up on had been. It feels splintered in places and curves inwards as he proceeds further, this must be an entrance. Ignis knows when he has walked in, the echo of his steps too obvious now.

“You never rest, do you, Specs?”

That voice. It cuts through Ignis’ chilled bones like a blade just forged. It could not be.

“Noct?”

“You know, for someone who always liked to lecture me of the virtues of patience, you are one impatient bastard.”

Ignis’ palm is still against the wall. He uses it as a support to lower himself to the ground without injury when his legs feel like they would not hold him up anymore. There is no echo of footsteps, but he can feel the presence in front of him and then a brush of knees against his as Noct, or whoever it is that has his voice, lowers himself to eye-level and tugs off Ignis’ visor.

He is not even startled by the return of his sight. What surprises him is the vague blue glow surrounding everything, including Noctis’ face. Oh, that face is so different now, but he would know it’s him anywhere. His hair is long and his cheekbones are sharper, features so reminiscent of his father's. But he is clean-shaven and the blue of his eyes is that unique hue he would know anywhere.

“Noct,” the word leaves him in an exhale, almost silent.

“Yes, Specs,” he answers with a soft smile, eyes crinkling slightly and Ignis’ heart feels full. “But I am still mad at you,” his tone turns serious, but the look in Noctis’ eyes remains soft. “Six, could you not live out your life? It would have only been a few decades and I was watching over you every step of the way.”

“You what?” Ignis has not looked away from Noctis’ eyes. He has not felt this alert since the Sun returned.

“Remember those guardian spirit stories you used to read to me when I was little? It’s like that.”

Realization dawns, the fog of the past few years is fully gone from his mind now.

“It was you.”

“Every stumble, every drop of the knife,” Noctis’ scrunches his eyes closed. “Every attempt at taking your life.”

Ignis reaches out now, he needs to see if he can touch him. His vision goes blurry with unshed tears as his palm softly rests against a smooth cheek. Noctis leans against his touch.

“Why couldn’t you just live for a while, Specs?”

“What would I do without you, Noct? I thought I could go on and rebuild Insomnia in your stead,” his thumb strokes over a cheekbone once before his hand drops back to his side as Ignis finally has to close his eyes, feeling wetness trickle down his cheeks. “But after I failed to keep you safe, what is another duty shirked?”

He can feel it this time when Noctis moves closer, just before he feels arms bracing themselves on his shoulders and the touch of lips against his cheek. First one, then the other, lips soaking up his tears.

“We are here now,” he whispers, as Ignis opens his eyes.

“Am I dead?”

“Not exactly. The barrier between the real world and the Beyond is thin here. Your body is still alive, I could get you back home safely.”

“Are you still so adamant on me living my life?”

“I did this so you would have the chance,” Noctis leans forward the last bit of the way and their foreheads touch. “I was patient for once, willing to wait it out for you.”

“And I, for once, was not.” He reaches out with both hands, pushes Noctis back a bit so they can look each other in the eye and reaches to bring both of his hands down between them, tangling their fingers together. “What do I have to do to stay with you?”

Noctis looks away. He is trying to hide a smile, Ignis realizes.

“Oh, I don’t know. Set out to a place where no one, but the blood of Kings and the Oracle has ever stepped a foot on, in the worst weather possible, while blind, making your guardian spirit’s task almost impossible,” his tone is light, but guilt washes over Ignis. How did Noctis even become his guardian? Has he broken any rules because of Ignis’ grief-stricken quest? Will he be punished?

Noctis must have noticed the way it has surely changed his expression, because his eyes go soft again as he squeezes Ignis’ fingers.

“Ignis, I love you, why else did you think I would do all this?”

“Why else do you think I’d come all the way here,” Ignis answers.

“Because you are also the most infuriatingly stubborn person I know.” Noctis gets back to his feet now, hands still holding onto Ignis’, pulling him up. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere where I will be able to answer all the questions you are dying to ask.”

Ignis stands up on now steady legs and looks straight into those beautiful blue eyes again. For now he has only one.

"You've got my back?"

Noctis' smile, when he answers, is brighter than the Sun.

"Always."

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go being dramatic again. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed, comments and kudos make my day. I'm also on tumblr [@aro-hawke](http://aro-hawke.tumblr.com/).


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